Hymn of the Wild
by AkurnaSkulblaka
Summary: Grimmjow didn't know why he had been cursed, but he'd long ago come to accept it. He guarded his flowers savagely, knowing that if they died he died. So the day he heard wolves nearing his garden, he'd done no different than he normally did. He killed the two wolves. And he would have killed the boy, if not for those brown eyes. GrimmIchi.
1. Be Wary of the Untamed

**Well, another fic! Hope you like this story. MAJOR OOC in the first chapter, mostly on Grimmjow's part. The rating is debatable, but I'm leaning toward M because it does have graphic gore and some sexual situations (although nothing to sexually explicit), so it's staying at T for now, until I deem it necessary to change the rating. M'k? K.**

**Cool Summary: He had lived long enough to see the forest in all its seasons; it was his care that kept the garden beautiful, as it had been when he'd first encountered it. His power kept the autumn from taking the life of his beloved flowers, and the winter from reaching their leaves. Yet, there had been change on the wind, the beast could smell it. And then there was that boy, one that he'd seen roaming around, coming closer to his beloved garden. GrimmIchi**

**Real Summary: Grimmjow didn't know why he had been cursed, but he'd long ago come to accept it. He guarded his flowers savagely, knowing that if they died he died. So the day he heard wolves nearing his garden, he'd done no different than he normally did. He killed the two wolves. And he would have killed the boy, if not for those brown eyes. GrimmIchi**

* * *

_Chapter 1 _

_Be Wary of the Untamed_

* * *

Grimmjow had been a normal boy. His entire life was spent in a quaint little village surrounded by forest, growing up with meat eaten beside a crackling fire and sleeping in the warmth of animal skins. All his life he was prepared for manhood, to live on his own and leave his mother and father's tent. They would teach him how to start a fire, to cleave a leaf with an arrow, or to skin any animal that was to be eaten. His father would always tell him to pray for the soul of every animal he killed, to let it soar into the heavens and not linger with those of the earth.

When he was fifteen years old he was sent into the forest to kill his first prey. It was called the Little Hunt, and every child that came of age would go through it. When he caught it, he was to do the customary prayer and bring the animal home to be cooked and eaten. He was not afraid, for it was his destiny to catch the animal that would provide nourishment for his family.

He said farewell to his family with every intention of returning home and seeing them again. He walked into the forest, giving one last wave to his village before marching determinedly into the unknown. He waited till he was far enough into the forest that the animals would be out and not hiding from the bustling noise coming from the village. His footsteps were light and airy on the mossy ground, and the sunlight through the leaves cast an earthy glow upon Grimmjow's cheeks. His eyes searched through the forest, his pupils flitting from one gap in the trees to the next. He strung his bow, readying the weapon to shoot its deadly arrow into any unsuspecting animal. His eyes continued to move from one place to another, his footsteps slow and purposeful in his endeavor to remain quiet and hidden. It was the animal that came first, a small brown rabbit leapt from the underbrush that surrounded a tree to his right. He lifted his bow, and pulled the taut string back, bending his bow to kill his prey. He released the arrow and it shot forward, burying itself into the rabbit's thigh. The animal collapsed the pain in his leg to great to allow him to continue running. Grimmjow ran over to the fallen animal, eyes wide and the breath stolen from his lungs.

At first he was glad, he'd caught his first prey! He could provide for his family, just the way his family provided for him. Then he looked upon the small animal, its sides rising and falling with quick and shallow breaths. Its eyes were glazed with pain as Grimmjow looked deep into them. He placed a hand on the animal's belly, smoothing it over the soft brown fur, yet the rabbit seemed to be in too much pain to notice that it was being touched. He was about to pull the arrow out of the rabbit's thigh and plunge it into the animal's heart, then he felt that he could not kill this animal. He touched the area around the wound and the rabbit jerked forward, nearly getting up, but collapsing back onto its side when the pain became too unbearable. Grimmjow placed a hand on the area around the wound, and another on the arrow protruding from his thigh. He took a deep breath, readying himself for what he was about to do. He clenched his fist around the arrow and pulled hard, straight up from the hole in the thigh. The rabbit jerked and then went still. He looked hard at the rabbit, trying to find any trace of movement, but he found none. The shallow breaths it once took had ceased and the rabbit lay motionless on the ground.

Grimmjow looked upon his actions with a grim horror. He had taken a life. His mother would always tell him of the threads of life and of the prayer one must say when a thread is broken. He thought hard about the words his mother told him. He eyes glistened with tears and his voice hitched as he spoke the blessed words.

_Humankind has not woven the web of life._

_We are but one thread within it._

_When a life is taken, _

_Utter a mournful prayer._

_For all life is sacred._

He gently closed the rabbit's eye lids over its hollow eyes and then picked up the small animal, cradling it to his chest. He would find a place to bury the rabbit, some place beautiful, and he would dig a deep hole so that once he buried it any scavengers could not smell the scent of spilt blood and destroy the body. He looked hard, perhaps a clearing in the trees.

He'd been walking for a while and the sun was setting on the horizon by the time he happened upon it. An opening in the monotonous brown of the tree trunks, filled with flowers that Grimmjow had never seen before. Flowers of every color and shape and even size littered the ground. He carefully set the rabbit down in the grass and took a step into the clearing, looking around in wonder. He took off his shoes, and the soft grass tickled his bare feet, making him wiggle his toes in the shiny tendrils. There was a large boulder to one side of the clearing, and the rest of the space was filled with the strange flowers. The flowers seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun.

A cold wind filtered through the trees, and Grimmjow shivered. The last of the light disappeared and the silvery moonlight was what was illuminating the flowers. He picked up the rabbit at his feet and carried it deeper into the flowers. He found a spot beneath a large flower that reached to his knees. Using his hands he dug a hole in the ground, disregarding the dirt that began to dig into his nails, and then placed the rabbit in the hole. He slowly covered the animal in the soil. He felt that with each bit of dirt he placed over the rabbit's fur, that he was adding more and more protection for the small creature.

When he was done he looked around, perhaps he could bring a flower to his mother, as a way of compensation, for not fulfilling his duty as a man. The flower had to be beautiful, something extraordinary. And, looking around, Grimmjow was hard pressed not to pick them all and bring them to his mother, for they were all beautiful. He spotted a lovely red flower, nestled in the corner of the flower garden, and Grimmjow felt it was decided. He pulled out his knife, and just as he was to cut the flower from the life giving ground, he spotted another one. It wasn't beautiful, no, but it had a gift. Simplicity.

The petals were the color of the sky at dawn, a deep blue, and they lined the eye like feathers on the wings of a hawk. The sheer uniqueness of the flower was what made Grimmjow pick it. It was what made him take his blade and sever the flower's ties with the earth. He held the flower in his hand, and walked back the way he came. He left the flower garden, and went his way home without seeing the stem of the cut flower curl in on itself, turning black, until it was merely a shriveled shadow of its former greenness.

When Grimmjow reached the edge of the forest, where his village resided, he felt ashamed that he had come home with just a mere flower. Yet, it seemed that the flower gave him strength, because when he lifted it to gaze upon its blueness, he felt the courage to face his mother and father filling his bones and singing in his blood. He took a step forward… and froze. At first he thought it was merely his body betraying him, and perceiving his fear as unwillingness to go to his parents and face his consequence. Yet, as he tried to move his fingers, they did not move. He attempted to lift his feet, and they were unmovable, as if they were molded to the ground with clay. _Clay can be broken, _he thought. He pushed forward with all his might yet the more he pushed, the more the hopelessness of the situation began to creep into his thoughts, like spiders spinning their web of doubt into the farthest reaches of his frantic mind.

He wanted to scream, he could see his family beyond the trees, laughing. His mother was braiding her blue hair, and his father was tending to the fire. The fire that would cook the prey he returned. He tried to, but it seemed that the breath was stuck in his throat, and he could not expel the air needed to cry out his fright and confusion to the world around him. It was a flash of blue caught out of the corner of his eye that made his worrying increase tenfold.

The flower, it was still there in his hand, and despite the long time he had spent walking home, it had not withered. The petals were still bright and the stem was still firm. He attempted to lift his hand and found that he could, with minimal effort. He gripped the stem tightly in his hand, making sure not to drop it. The flower had something to do with this situation, Grimmjow was sure of it. He took a step back and was surprised that he could do it. He took another. And another, until he was more than ten feet from the clearing. He turned slowly, making sure his movements were fluid and unrestricted, and then headed back toward the flower garden, where he suspected his answers would lie.

When he reached the clearing filled with flowers dawn was breaking and the opening in the trees was filled with shadows. He searched for the red flower, and when he found it, looked beneath it and found what remained of the blue flower. He touched the gnarled black stem and then his eyebrows furrowed. How was it that the stem, which was still linked to the life giving earth, had died before the flower had even withered?

He stood up, staring down at his feet, seeing the leather moccasins that covered them. He had started something… something of great proportions and something of which he did not know the severity. As he stared he felt his fingers tingling. A quick glance at his hand and then his eyes flitted back to his feet, only to dart back to his hand, widening in horror at what they beheld.

The flower, the wretched flower, was growing. Little green tendrils had begun to wrap around his hand, and even as he attempted to swat them away they just grew back and covered more of his skin. Soon his entire arm was covered in green leafy vines and his panic was making him shake, causing the leaves to tremble.

He fell to the ground, screaming his throat hoarse in his attempts to call for help. Yet, it seemed that doing so was a mistake because the vines snaked around his legs and pulled tight, till his body was pulled so close that his legs were drawn tight against his chest and his other arm trapped underneath him. Grimmjow took a deep breath to scream, but stopped abruptly. The vines were not constricting to the point of pain, they just… surrounded him. Not that the sensation was pleasing, no, not at all. But they weren't hurting him. With this thought in mind, among many other thoughts telling him to keep screaming and struggling, he let the vines cover his body. He belatedly realized that they stopped wrapping around his arms and legs after he stopped struggling, and instead began to wrap around him, much like a cocoon.

After the last sliver of light was covered, Grimmjow saw the little blue flower, right in front of his face, glowing faintly in the darkness. He felt no panic, no worry, and his eyelids began to droop, and his short pants began to grow into deep, long breaths. And soon, he was asleep.

* * *

There had always been a reason why Ichigo remained as far from the forest as he could. As a child, Ichigo was impressionable, and all those stories of a boy lost in the woods, nearly seventy summers ago, did nothing to lessen his fear. The boy had been like him, fifteen, and he'd gone into the forest to perform his writ of passage into manhood. And he never returned. Ichigo never forgot those tales. No one even knew what happened to the child. Some say he was eaten by wolves, and others say he never found his way back. But Ichigo's father, oh his father, said that he was eaten by the Scorned. The Scorned was a supposed beast that roamed the forest, eating little children and trapping women for its own pleasure. None of the adults believed him, for there had never been any proof of such a claim, no child found dead, no woman lost. But Ichigo didn't know that. So, as you may have guessed, he was a mite reluctant to go on his first hunt. Going into the forest alone was not what he wanted to do! He was scared, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. His father knew. His mother knew. Even the other villagers knew. His friends made fun, but he didn't waver in his unrelenting fear.

Appreciative as he was of his mother's consolations and his father's encouragements, Ichigo still had to go into the forest. He didn't want to be eaten, so he kept his bow strung, an arrow nocked and ready to pierce the heart of anything that seemed threatening.

His hunt was a long one. With the winter season coming, many of the animals fled south to escape the cold and snow. He was afraid, the sun had begun to set and he was running out of time. He wasn't to return empty handed. He needed to find something. He heard a loud fluttering, and looked to his left. A ptarmigan hen scuttled from a tree, landing on the ground a little ways away of him. Ichigo hid himself, hoping that the hen hadn't seen him. He slowly snuck around the tree, trying to be as quiet as he could. Pulling the string taut, he aimed, and released. Ichigo saw a puff of feathers and the hen was flying away. He ran after it, making sure to keep the bird in his sights. He was right on it, so he stopped, nocked an arrow, and then, still walking, he aimed to shoot—and he fell, flat on the ground, his foot having gotten caught on a root.

He looked remorsefully at the ptarmigan that was flying away, squawking. He lifted himself to his feet, patting the dust from his pants. He picked up his bow, slinging the string over his shoulder so the bow rested at his back. He looked around, taking in the fallen leaves, and bare trees. He wished that he had caught the hen. If he had he would have been able to go home. As his home was brought to mind, he realized something. In his haste to catch that ptarmigan, he had been easily misled and had deviated from the path which he could follow home. He looked frantically for a clue that would lead him back to his village. The trees, they all looked alike. None of them had leaves and they all appeared dead. He began walking in the direction he thought would lead him home, praying to every deity that could hear that he would just make it home. He didn't need to find an animal to kill; he just wanted to get home. If could just see one of the rabbit traps that were riddled about the outside of the village, he could navigate his way back home by those. He only wanted his mother's comfort. He didn't know how to hunt, his aim was horrible and he had no balance whatsoever. He wasn't a hunter. He liked to cook, he liked to sneak away from the other boys and watch his mother teach his sisters how to sew. His mother had caught him once, and she didn't admonish him, she merely let him join. It was what he was good at. He had a knack for creating things.

So lost was Ichigo in his thoughts, the boy didn't see the two wolves standing in front of him, sniffing curiously. They growled as he neared them, and he looked up at the sudden and aggressive noise. He froze as he laid eyes on the two wolves. They looked ferocious; one even had a missing eye. The other one was smaller, most likely female, and he coat had a very faint reddish hue to it. The color was so light that it was nigh impossible to see, merely appearing and disappearing when the she-wolf moved. They looked at him calculatingly, and no matter how still he stood, he knew that they may or may not deem him worthy of the hunt. They might just see him as food.

The she-wolf lowered her head, and stared at Ichigo, teeth bared in what looked like a smile. Ichigo got the feeling that it wasn't a nice smile. It was a sinister smile, one of a hunter awaiting the gore and blood of killing its prey. The sharp teeth were glistening with anticipatory slaver, and a low growl emitted from her throat. The growl was akin to laughter, sadistic laughter warning him of the imminent danger to his life. The one eyed wolf also turned toward him and Ichigo was the one to run first. He ran as fast as his legs would take him, hoping to the gods that he could make it out of this horrid experience with his life. Tears poured from his eyes and his body would have wracked with sobs had he not been running for his very life. He could hear the snarling of the wolves behind him and he nearly fell to the ground. He was going to be eaten like that boy seventy years ago. Oh gods no! Please spare his life!

He was approaching a clearing in the trees. It might be the village! His father would save him! He pushed forward, adrenaline pumping through his limbs, giving him a renewed strength to reach his destination. Just as he was about to break the line of trees, one of the wolves pounced, making him fall forward into the dirt. The leaves from the forest floor were crushed and they filled his mouth with their bitter and rotting flavor. Something landed on his back, and teeth gripped his moccasin clad foot. A loud scream was wrenched from his throat as one last snarl was released in his ear and the echoes of a deep roar filling his bones with a fear so potent it made his world go black.

**Hope you liked the first chapter… Tell me if you want me to continue! I probably will, I just want to hear your wonderful opinions! :D**

**The apron-clad-Ichi-baby fic will be up in a while, but not until the last chapter of Endeavors is up!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Aku :)**


	2. In the Throes of Ardency

**Second chapter ;) This story is something that has been on my mind for a while, so be aware that while I am writing this one, I will also be working slowly on To Walk the Earth. But I have bigger plans for this fic. **

**This chapter is best read while listening to Eternal Flame by Audiomachine, which is found on YouTube! :D GO FIND.**

_Chapter 2_

_In the Throes of Ardency_

Grimmjow remembered every moment of his life before he'd become guardian to his precious flowers. He also remembered, after he'd awoken and ripped his way out of the cocoon that had enveloped his body, the insatiable rage that'd consumed him. He'd tried his hardest to wrench his way into his village, trying to force his body to move toward the village. But no matter how hard he pushed, and how much he strained his muscles, he could not breach the unbreakable barrier that wouldn't let him leave the forest.

He'd come to memorize the forest around his little garden of flowers. There was a lake not far from it, where he could drink, and a large rock formation hat seemed to connect to the boulder in the garden. It blocked off the rest of the garden, allowing for a small alcove of sorts that surrounded a third of the clearing, which he had not noticed when he first came upon the garden, for he'd been too distracted by the beauty of it. On the side of this rocky cliff was a small cave. When Grimmjow first found it, he'd had to arch his back as he entered, for the slight bend in the cave ceiling didn't allow for a smooth entrance.

That had become his home, for he could not go very far from the garden, without the same restriction he felt when he tried to leave the forest to go to his village. He'd felt an unfathomable sorrow consume him when he realized he could not leave nor return home. And he'd realized nearly a year after, that if he didn't remain near his flowers, and tried to break the invisible wall that surrounded his meager land, the flowers began to wilt. He also noticed that as the flowers neared death, so did he. His body began to go through pain. His limbs creaked, and his heart hurt with every beat in his chest. He'd gone back to his cave and attempted to go to sleep. But as he neared the garden, it seemed that he didn't need to, for the pain eased the closer he got to the garden.

Seventy years had passed and Grimmjow had not changed. He'd only realized after a couple weeks that his body had changed as he had slept inside the little cocoon. He'd grown taller, his body filled out and it had been plastered by hard white plates, which covered his body like an indestructible armor. His hands and feet were different as well, and the more he looked at himself the more he thought he looked like a cat. If the blue, feline-esque ears that protruded from his head weren't enough of a clue, the long tail that weaved behind him was. It had been a fleeting glance in the refection of the lake as he bent to take a drink that had nearly driven him mad. He'd been so grief-stricken that he'd not noticed the changes to his body.

He'd long come to terms with the life that the Fates had given him. Seventy years alone, with nothing much to do but think left him with a lot of time to do that. Every once in a while he would brave the pain in his chest, and go and see his family. But as time passed, his family began to wither. He saw that they were going through pain, just as he was, at the loss of their beloved son. But as Grimmjow watched, they grew old and died, and he could do nothing to stop it from happening.

But as his life went on, the more the sorrow he felt at not having his family turned into a relentless anger. Why had he been dealt such a harsh life? Why did he have to suffer? _Why did he have to pick that wretched flower?_

The thoughts and questions that plagued his mind only served to fuel the growing fury that raged inside him. The once passive and merciful Grimmjow was changed. He no longer took pity on the animals that roamed the forest, be they meat eater or one that consumed the fruit of the ground. He took no pity on the little rabbits that neared his garden. He didn't need them eating his flowers and causing him physical pain, one that would accompany the emotional pain he already felt in his heart. He didn't think much about how much he had changed knowing that to do so would only bring his thoughts and sadness crashing down on him like a torrent of rain. He savagely guarded his garden, knowing it was the only thing that kept him alive.

So the day he heard the snarling of wolves approaching his beloved garden, he had done no different than he normally did. He killed the two wolves. It was a brief fight, their fangs and the weak grip of their mouths doing little in contrast to his impenetrable armor. He turned swiftly, a snarl in his throat, intending to kill whatever creature the wolves had been pursuing. Then he saw that it wasn't some frightened animal.

It was a boy.

The boy looked no older than the age that Grimmjow himself had left the village and gone to fulfill his destiny as a hunter of the wilds. He thought bitterly, as he was about to plunge his hand into the boy's back, that his fate had turned out much worse than the one this boy had been given. Death was better than what Grimmjow had endured for seventy years. His thrust his hand forward and then the boy jerked. His hand inches from piercing the boy's skin, Grimmjow stopped himself and looked at the heaving body beneath him. The boy crept to his knees, looking around him frantically searching for what Grimmjow assumed were the two wolves that were about to kill him. Grimmjow let a low growl come from his throat and the boy whirled around, his eyes widening as he saw that what awaited him was far worse than a pair of wolves. Grimmjow could understand this fear. He was frightening, what with the glistening fangs, clawed hands and cold, blue gaze. Just his appearance was terrifying enough, and the blood that decorated his body and matted his long hair did little to deter the boy from thinking that Grimmjow was the most ferocious thing he had ever seen. Grimmjow bared his teeth and the boy flinched.

He was about to pounce, thinking that he would really enjoy killing something that felt something more than a vague sense of fear and actually thought about what was happening. He was leaning forward his face turning from impassive to vicious, when the boy clenched his fist and thrust it forward with as much force as his lithe body could provide. Of course, Grimmjow caught the fist. But as he looked at the boy, he saw the defiance in his eyes. He could see the changing emotions swirling chaotically through expressive amber orbs. Something kept him from wrapping a hand around the boy's throat and squeezing the life out of him, and he knew it was because if he did, the life and emotion would leave those eyes. He lifted a hand and he saw the eyes flitted to his hand and then returned to look at his eyes, glinting insolently.

He placed the hand on the boy's cheek, noticing the slight heat to the skin against his hand. He smoothed his hand upwards, and into the unruly orange hair and the boy shivered, from what Grimmjow didn't know. And he didn't think much of it, for this had been the first human contact he'd had for nearly seventy torturous years. He was enthralled as he touched something that wasn't stony and white. He lifted his other hand, and ran it down the boy's arm, his fingers mapping every inch of skin. He caught the wrist and turned the hand over, his blue eyes turning toward it. He ran his clawed fingers over the inside, noticing the light blue tinge of the veins underneath the skin. He moved on to the boy's hands, ones that were so different from his black ones. He bent and unbent the fingers, clenched the hand into a fist. Grimmjow watched as the skin of the boy's palm folded and then he traced the lines that remained when he unclenched the fist.

He let go of the hand and his eyes went back to the boy's face He moved down to the thin neck, and he lightly pressed his thumb over his Adam's apple. The boy swallowed. He did it again to see if he would get the same reaction. He did. He trailed his middle finger along the bridge of the boy's straight nose. He ran his hand along pink cheeks. He then spotted the two rosy pink lips. He ran his thumb over the lower one, liking the softness. The boy licked his lips, and Grimmjow watched as the residual saliva left a shiny luster on the pinkness. He looked back into the boy's brown eyes.

"What is your name?" he asked, and was nearly startled at the sound of his voice. He hadn't talked since he told his mother and his father goodbye, that fateful day. He hadn't realized that his voice had changed too; it was deeper, a gruff baritone that rang through the small clearing, and in his silence, he couldn't have been able to know what it sounded like. He waited for the answer as he was held captive by those brown eyes.

"Ichigo," the boy replied, his voice a soft tenor that suffused Grimmjow's thoughts like a blanket.

"Ichigo," he spoke the name aloud, testing it on his tongue, finding that he liked it.

"My name is Grimmjow," he said, still looking into Ichigo's eyes. He was fascinated by them. So many different colors resided within the brown irises; small flecks of light brown sprouted from the pupil mixing with the darker colors, making Ichigo's eyes a cacophony of color and passion and pure _feeling_.

"Thank you for saving me, Grimmjow," Ichigo spoke softly. Grimmjow's eyes widened; this boy thought he had saved him? He thought that Grimmjow had killed the wolves for him. Well, Grimmjow thought, he had spared him from a grisly and painful death by killing the wolves and even if he had been about to kill Ichigo, he still saved him in some warped and distorted way.

Grimmjow straightened, and was pleasantly surprised that he was a head taller than Ichigo.

Ichigo looked up at him, and then Grimmjow's eyes widened as the boy stood on the tips of his toes and pressed his coral pink lips to his own.

This kiss was short and closed mouthed, perhaps a mere sign of gratitude from Ichigo. But it left Grimmjow burning, his heart longing for more of that contact. He had been so alone, that when he finally had someone to touch, he wanted it in the marrow of his bones. In the years that had passed, Grimmjow had come to accept that he wouldn't be with another human being for the rest of his time in this life. He'd made sure to squash any and all longing to talk, touch or interact with a fellow human. Although Grimmjow didn't know if he could still call himself a human.

Then there was this boy, seeing him. And in spite of the man's dangerous exterior, Ichigo let Grimmjow in. Let him touch his body with his dangerous hands, knowing that at any moment Grimmjow's sharp claws could sink into his flesh and cause his life to pour out, draining the lifeblood from his veins. He'd been trustworthy before his life as guardian of the flowers, but Ichigo couldn't know that. That aside, Grimmjow was a different person altogether from what he had been before he picked from the garden. He was cruel, unmerciful and completely the opposite of what he had been when he first left his village. Now that he had contact with someone after so many long years, Grimmjow craved that touch. He wanted more. He _needed _more.

He carefully buried his hands in orange locks, and then brought his lips once again to Ichigo's. Again it was closed mouthed. Their lips didn't even move, they just pressed together. And Grimmjow was perfectly content to have merely this. He was satisfied with this touch because the sheer intimacy of the kiss was enough to send warmth flooding through his body. Though the kiss was just a simple press of the lips, Grimmjow felt that he could be no closer to anyone. To be this way with someone aside from what he remembered with his mother and father, was something completely new to Grimmjow. He'd become so accustomed to being alone that when he finally met someone after so many years, all he could do was bask in the glow of familiarity, and togetherness.

They parted slowly, and Grimmjow saw that Ichigo had closed his eyes in their moment of closeness. He saw the dark eyelashes fanning over blushing cheeks, and the parted lips, a tongue creeping out to moisten pink lips, before sliding back into his warm wet cavern. He lifted his hands and ran his thumbs over the closed eyelids, kissing a reddened cheek. He tipped Ichigo's head up with the crook of his right index finger.

"Open your eyes, little one," Grimmjow murmured, his left hand coming up to cup the back of Ichigo's neck. He watched as dazed eyes opened slowly, blinking twice, and then focusing on the face before them.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo breathed, lifting his own hands to cup Grimmjow's cheeks. He didn't know what to say, he'd never been kissed this way before. He had, of course, been kissed. But never in all his fifteen years, had he felt such an explosion of heat through his body from a mere press of the lips.

Ichigo shivered, the cold wind filtering through the trees reminding him that it was nighttime and winter was drawing close. Grimmjow caught the tremor and then said, "You are cold. Come, I will take you back to your village."

Ichigo froze. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay with Grimmjow, remain with him all night, and sleep till the daylight breaks and then do it all over again.

"No!" He wracked his mind for a reason that he could use to convince Grimmjow to allow him to stay longer, "I—I… I haven't caught anything yet! I can't go home with nothing!" Ichigo silently congratulated himself for his quick thinking and then looked up hopefully at Grimmjow.

"You are on your Little Hunt," Grimmjow said, more so in statement than in question, but he still gazed at Ichigo calculatingly. Ichigo nodded quickly, crossing his fingers behind his back and praying that his little plan worked.

"Fine, you can stay the night with me, and then I'll take you to the creek tomorrow and you can catch yourself a fish for your family," Grimmjow said, before quickly walking away and around the cliff side toward his den.

"You go in first, I will get us something to eat," He told Ichigo when they reached the small opening in the ground. He watched Ichigo fall to his knees and crawl into the cave. Grimmjow knew that Ichigo would have little trouble getting in there. He was so small and compact.

He wandered back into the alcove and found the bodies of the two dead wolves. He took the she-wolf and brought her back to the cave. He started a fire and then began to skin the meat, drawing back on his memories in the village. It had been many years since he had cooked anything he'd eaten, instead choosing to eat the meat raw and bloody. But despite the long time without practice, the teachings his parents gave him returned swiftly to his mind, leading his hands and fingers in the course which they needed to follow to prepare a cooked meal. He left the fire and ran toward the lake, where he picked up a large, flat and smooth rock, which he washed in the lake, and brought it back to the fire. By the time he was done and the meat was cooking, Ichigo was wandering out of the cave, drawn out by the smell of cooking food.

The boy wordlessly sat next to him and looked at the fire, ignoring the bluenette's inquisitive gaze. He just looked at the crackling fire and wondered how it was that Grimmjow knew how to do these kinds of things, like starting a fire, or skinning an animal for food. He looked every bit like the beast he was. He most likely ate his food red with blood.

Grimmjow leaned forward, removing part of the wolf from the rest of the body and studiously placed it on top of a large flat rock that sat beside the fire. The blue haired man took the meat off the bone and placed it all around the rock before looking at Ichigo.

Ichigo watched as Grimmjow offered him a piece of the meat. Ichigo was about to lift his hand and take it, but Grimmjow held his hand down. His other clawed hand pressed the meat to his mouth. He took it and chewed the morsel, before swallowing it. Grimmjow, still holding the hand that kept trying to lift and take the food from his hand, fed Ichigo another piece. They went on like this for a while, Grimmjow feeding Ichigo the meat and Ichigo eating it, until Ichigo was satisfied.

Grimmjow told the boy to wait for him inside the cave, and then went to put out the fire and then dispose of the leftover meat. Went back to the last dead wolf and ate it, he didn't want to eat the cooked meat. Not wanting to go back into the cave reeking of the metallic scent of blood, he briefly washed himself in the lake, before making his way back to Ichigo.

When he crawled inside, Ichigo was waiting for him, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the cave.  
Grimmjow sat in front of him, looking at Ichigo in the dim light that seeped in from the cave entrance. It was by synchronized decision that they kissed again. One last time, before they both went to sleep.

**I hope you liked it! I tried real hard, peeps; I really want to please my readers. X3 **

**Spring break is coming up, I'll be writing, but I can't upload because I have no internet at home :/ But it's only a week long so I'll only be a couple days late. Hope you don't mind! :D :D :D :D**

**Thanks for reading! **

**Aku :)**


	3. Sharp Arrows & the White of Bone

**Here's capitulo numero tres! :P Sometimes I wish that my Spanish roots would have rooted deeper in me, because it would be pretty cool to have stories in two languages. But, English may as well have been my mother tongue, because I know it much better than I do Spanish :/**

**Oh well, on with the story! :D Quickie, **_**lime**_** in this chapter. BE WARNED. **

_Chapter 3 _

_Sharp Arrows & the White of Bone_

When Grimmjow woke up the next morning, it was to a mouthful of orange hair. He was about to push whatever it was that was in his face away from him, when he remembered what had transpired the night before. He hugged Ichigo closer, moving onto his side and bringing the boy to lie down next to him. He rested Ichigo's head on the crook of his arm, allowing their faces to be close with comfort. The boy's bare chest was warm against him and his breath fanned over Grimmjow's collarbone. He just nuzzled the soft orange hair in front of him, allowing the spicy smell to assault his nose. He ran his hand along Ichigo's stomach, his fingers grazing the firm muscles he found there. His hand swept up to his side and then squeezed, his thumb reaching out and feathering across a dusky nipple. Grimmjow jumped when he heard a gasp and the puffs of breath on his neck began to grow in speed and intensity. His eyes widened. Had he hurt Ichigo? Maybe one of his claws nicked his skin. Why was he breathing so heavily? He moved back slightly, looking into Ichigo's face in the morning light. He looked a bit flushed, but he didn't seem to be in any pain. But he was still breathing heavily.

"D—do it again," Ichigo breathed, his eyes sliding open to reveal glazed, honey colored eyes.

"Do what?" Grimmjow asked, puzzled.

"Touch me, please."

Grimmjow complied, finally understanding. He ran his hands down Ichigo's sides, then to his thighs and then back up again to his chest, before repeating it all over again. He noticed Ichigo's gasps and sighs, and he realized that he was indeed not hurting Ichigo. It was a lot like he was making him feel good. His touches grew bolder, and he pressed on, making Ichigo cry out when he touched his nipples. Suddenly a hand gripped his wrist and tugged in no certain direction, gripping tightly. The hand seemed hesitant, and Grimmjow slowly eased his wrist from the boy's grip, before continuing to touch the body beside him. This exploration of Ichigo's body was much more sensual than the one he'd done the night before. The biggest difference was the nature of the touches. They were heavier, and Grimmjow touched places that would make Ichigo feel good, whereas in the dwindling light of the sun, Grimmjow's touches had been more innocent and light.

He noticed then that Ichigo was erect and tenting the fabric of his pants. Sympathetic, Grimmjow pushed the pants down to Ichigo's thighs and then wrapped a hand around the weeping erection. He stroked lazily, liking the small moans and cries that fled Ichigo's mouth, uninhibited as he was brought closer to the peak of his pleasure. Grimmjow gave one last squeeze and then Ichigo climaxed and wrapped his arms around Grimmjow's neck, gripping tightly as he rode out the throes of his orgasm.

He was still panting and Ichigo knew that he had never experienced something like that in his life. He'd never been touched in that way before and he found that he really liked it. His muscles felt loose and he felt that if he tried to get to his feet, that he would have a great deal of trouble doing it.

Grimmjow licked the essence from his hand, and then wrapped his arms around Ichigo, holding the panting and lethargic body close to him. Ichigo's arms remained wrapped around Grimmjow's neck, even long after he had calmed from his orgasm. It had been so long since Grimmjow even thought about anything of the intimate sort, that now that he was faced with something exceedingly close to that he'd even had some trouble understanding. He'd thought that he'd never interact with another person again, let alone come close to anything sexual.

They just held each other for a short while, Grimmjow fascinated by the first human he'd spoken to in many years, and Ichigo awed by the man who had saved his life. It was Grimmjow that let go first, his arms loosening from around Ichigo's waist, causing Ichigo to relax his hold on his neck as well. Grimmjow kissed Ichigo's forehead, and then slowly lifted himself into a sitting position, allowing Ichigo to fix himself and pull up his pants. They climbed out of the cave, Ichigo going first and Grimmjow following close behind and Grimmjow stretched languidly. Ichigo watched, slightly amused and thinking that he looked like a cat.

"Let's get you to the creek so you can catch your fish to bring home," Grimmjow said, once he was done stretching. Ichigo smiled and followed after Grimmjow when the man walked into the trees. They walked in silence for the entirety of the trip to the creek, the Grimmjow content to just savor the last few hours he had with another, and Ichigo trying to find a way to ask Grimmjow if he could return to come and see him in the future. Ichigo didn't want to leave Grimmjow alone. He'd seen the loneliness in his hard eyes; however obscured it was by rage and savagery. And he'd felt it in Grimmjow's touch, in the way he meticulously examined every inch of his skin, as if he was familiar. He didn't know where Grimmjow had come from, but Ichigo knew that he didn't want him to be alone anymore.

They reached the creek and Ichigo used his bow to shoot the fish from the creek side. He caught three fish and speared them on one of his arrows, before Grimmjow deemed him worthy of heading home.

"You did well," Grimmjow said, his voice low as they neared the village, which Grimmjow recognized to be the one he left when he was a child. He didn't know what to think about that. What was he supposed to think? Was he supposed to be glad that Ichigo came from the same village? Or maybe he could get angry at Ichigo, and become envious of his obvious privilege of being able to enter into a home that Grimmjow himself had been denied. But Grimmjow couldn't think those thoughts now. Grimmjow didn't want Ichigo to leave just as much as Ichigo didn't want to leave him. But of course, Ichigo had to return home and show his family he could provide for himself, maybe even to show them that he was alive and well, for he'd been gone the whole night.

"Thank you," Ichigo said, looking away and smiling a small, very contrite smile. He knew this was goodbye, that he might never see Grimmjow again. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tried to think of some last minute reason for coming back to see him.

Grimmjow seemed to read the boy's very thoughts and said, "You can come out when I come and get you. I'm sure your parents will let you, now that you are a man." Grimmjow chuckled and looked off into the bustling village. Not much had changed since he last looked at it, aside from the plethora of new faces. "I came from this village, a long, long time ago," he said, looking once again to Ichigo.

Ichigo looked at him with sad eyes, "You're the boy that got lost seventy years ago, aren't you?" he asked ruefully. Grimmjow nodded solemnly and ran a hand through Ichigo's hair, before using his grip on the back of his neck to bring him into a one armed hug. When the boy looked down and buried his face into Grimmjow's neck, the blue haired beast chuckled, feeling the wetness that poured from Ichigo's eyes. He'd cried so many tears of his own, it seemed he had none left to cry, for despite the sadness that washed over him at the memories that surfaced, he shed no tears.

Ichigo pulled back and looked at him once again, "When can I meet you again?" he asked.

"After your ceremony, I want to give you my own gift, aside from the ones you will receive from your family. Meet me at sunset," Grimmjow said, wiping dry the tears that still clung to the corners of Ichigo's eyes.

"Yes, I will!" Ichigo cried, invigorated, now that he knew he could see Grimmjow again.

They parted with one last kiss.

**o8o**

Ichigo walked into his father's hut, brandishing the arrow with the three fish he caught.

"Father, I've returned!"

Isshin looked up at his son, noting that he was safe despite the fact that he had been gone all night.

"Good, my son. Those are some fine fish you caught."

"At sun high you'll have your ceremony," Isshin said, patting his son's back.

Ichigo beamed, glad to have his father's approval.

Ichigo watched as his father started a fire in front of him. He watched as he scaled the fish and then, spearing the each one, he set them beside the fire to cook. He felt pride swell in his chest. He'd caught those fish, fish that would fill the stomachs of his parents and his two sisters. He looked at the cooking fish, watching as the skin darkened. He felt his stomach rumble, and he remembered that he hadn't eaten since he ate with Grimmjow the night before. The scent of the cooking fish was making him very hungry, but he knew he couldn't eat till after his ceremony. He sighed happily, despite his rumbling tummy. He was finally going to be looked upon like a man of the village; he might even get to build his own hut when he was ready.

It also meant that he didn't have to ask his father for permission to do the things he wanted to do. Ichigo hadn't really thought much about that privilege, he didn't really want to do anything that his father would _need _to give him permission to do. Of course, that was changed. Now that he met Grimmjow, he could see him whenever his pleased, without his father's permission to go into the forest. If he'd met Grimmjow before he'd done his little hunt, he would have had to ask his father for permission every time he wanted to enter the forest. His father might have even grown suspicious, and wondered why Ichigo wanted to go into the forest so often.

Thinking back on the day he had with Grimmjow, Ichigo found that he liked spending time with him. He blushed as he remembered the moment they had during their waking minutes in the cave. He'd never felt so satisfied, not as he did after Grimmjow touched him.

It was his father's call from outside the hut that nabbed Ichigo from his thoughts. He shook the thoughts from his head, and getting up from his spot in the hut, Ichigo walked out into the sun, ready for the ritual for his entry into manhood.

**o8o**

Grimmjow couldn't help but stay and watch the ceremony. He ignored the pain in his chest as he watched Ichigo being painted for his ritual. The blue and green covered his chest and face, marking him as a man in front of the gods. The pain in his chest increased for a mere moment as he thought about his own missed chance at having his ritual into manhood. He looked away, teeth bared and head bowed in shame. This would never happen for him, so Grimmjow didn't know why he was letting it affect him so. He didn't need these thoughts plaguing him at this moment. He needed to just watch and enjoy as Ichigo became a man in the eyes of those above. _This moment isn't for me, it is for Ichigo_, Grimmjow thought remorsefully. Although he sure wished he had had this moment for himself. He wished that he could have his own chance in face of the gods.

But he couldn't! And he wasn't paying attention and he was missing the ceremony. With a grunt of hardiness, Grimmjow turned toward the village and watched as Ichigo stood in front of a large fire, in the middle of a circle of men and women, his hair glowing in the sunlight. He heard the soft sound of flutes playing, accompanied by the hard beats of the drums. Women stood from their spots on the ground and began to dance. The beat of the song grew in tempo, the music growing louder and the beat growing faster, until with one final shout from the men, the drumming stopped, leaving only the gentle sound of the flutes. A woman began to sing softly, her voice high and light.

_A boy, oh a boy,_

_Went into the forest, to find food. _

_He brought back his catch,_

_To feed his family._

_He proved himself in the eyes of the people._

_And now he must prove himself,_

_In the eyes of the gods._

The singing stopped the note low and steady, before fading into nothing. The woman sat back down.

Ichigo stood in the midst of the other villagers. A man that Grimmjow assumed was Ichigo's father stood and handed him a knife, before sitting back down, watching his son with proud eyes. Ichigo lifted his hands, one of them gripping the knife tightly. He placed the knife in the palm of his right hand and wrenched it down. The knife sliced through the skin of his hand. He placed his hand above the fire, and a small droplet of blood escaped the confines of his fist. He stepped back, lowering his hand and waiting. Grimmjow watched with baited breath after the droplet disappeared into the fire. This was the moment of truth, the moment when the Gods would judge Ichigo worthy or unworthy.

Suddenly the flames shot up, glowing in a kaleidoscope of colors before shooting down and the fire was extinguished. An elderly man approached the embers of the fire and gazed down into the glow.

He walked toward Ichigo, and then looked at his cut hand. He held it up, and then yelled in triumph. The cut was healed, the Gods had spoken, and Ichigo was a man.

**o8o**

By the time Ichigo had finished with the overabundance of congratulations, the sun was well into setting. He took his bow and slung it over his shoulder, before venturing off in search of Grimmjow. He walked to the spot where he and Grimmjow parted a few hours ago, only to find that Grimmjow wasn't there. He searched for him for a couple minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of that blue hair. But try as he might he couldn't find Grimmjow. Crestfallen, Ichigo was about to return home, when he heard someone speak.

"You're finally a man," Grimmjow said, grinning, "Good work."

Ichigo smiled, running into Grimmjow's outstretched arms, liking the way those strong, hard arms surrounded him in their safe embrace. He looked up into Grimmjow blue eyes, looking for any sign that he might be displeased. He saw nothing of the sort, of course. He saw only glowing contentment. He buried his face into Grimmjow's hard chest, glad that his ceremony hadn't affected Grimmjow in any bad way.

"Have you received many gifts?"

Ichigo looked up again, and without thinking, he smiled and said, "Yes, but they won't be as important as yours." He blushed as his mind caught up with his mouth and he realized what he had said. Would Grimmjow think him too forward? He had just met the man. Why would his gift be more significant than any of the others he had received? Indeed the way he admired Grimmjow was different than the way he admired someone else, say, his father. And that was because Grimmjow saved him. He'd been about to lose his _life_, and Grimmjow had pulled him back from the lethal, cold and insidious lips of death. Ichigo didn't know why Grimmjow was in the forest, or even why he looked the way he did, but Ichigo knew he could look at Grimmjow as a friend. He was a very… close friend, of course, because he knew that normal friends didn't do the kinds of things that he and Grimmjow did in the cave that morning.

"I have your gift, which is why I was gone, I had to go retrieve it," Grimmjow said.

Ichigo pulled back, and Grimmjow held out the gift.

Ichigo took it carefully in his hands. It was a knife, made from the bone of an animal, the blade tapering off into a translucent point. The hilt was fashioned to curve inward toward the fingers and it was decorated with ornate carvings that depicted flowers and grass, some carved so deeply that it reached the hollow in the center of the bone where the marrow once would have been. As Ichigo looked at what Grimmjow had given him, he felt that it was dear to him already.

"D—did you make this yourself?" Ichigo asked, looking up into glowing cerulean eyes.

"It was the first weapon I made after I found that I couldn't return to the village," Grimmjow responded.

Ichigo frowned… he couldn't return to the village? Was it because of the way he looked? Ichigo was sure that if he tried the villagers would accept him, even with his abnormal appearance. They wouldn't discriminate someone by the way they looked. And they would most certainly understand if he told them that Grimmjow was the lost boy from seventy years ago.

"Why can't you return to the village?" Ichigo asked, looking away from the knife and up toward Grimmjow.

"_That's none of your busines_s_!_" Grimmjow hissed, startling the orange haired boy into taking a few steps back. As Ichigo looked into Grimmjow's eyes, he saw that they were changed, the lovely blue eyes that he had been so fond of looking into, were sharp and cold and not what Ichigo was accustomed to.

"I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak out of line," Ichigo stuttered, trying in vain to placate the seething creature that was looming above him. He tried to lift his hands to touch Grimmjow, but just as his fingers were going to touch the skin of the man's jaw, Grimmjow violently pushed him away, knocking Ichigo to the ground, the knife clattering to the dirt beside him. Ichigo looked up, gazing into piercing blue eyes, eyes that instilled in him a great fear. Then he watched, surprised, as Grimmjow bounded into the trees, disappearing quickly into the denser part of the forest.

In that moment of gazing into furious blue eyes did Ichigo grasp how wild Grimmjow truly was.

**Oh dear! What happens next? Find out in the next chapter… Mwahahaha.**

**:O Sorry about the ceremony, I'm not really good at coming up with that kind of stuff :/ Hope it was good enough :3 **

**Thanks for the reviews guys! I think I'm starting to get a little group of fans, because I keep seeing similar pen names throughout my Bleach fics :DDDDD *gets hopes up***

**Aku loves you guys! :)**


	4. What Harbors the Darkness

**Well, well, well. Time for chapter 4! :D:D:D:D:D I reckon it's about time I threw out some drama. Sorry for the cliffy last chapter, but it was necessary, that's for sure. Seemed like the **_**perfect **_**place to end it. i r le evilz, yeah?**

**The end is best read while listening to "I Giorni" by Ludovico Einaudi**

_Chapter 4 _

_What Harbors the Darkness_

Grimmjow spent the rest of the night running and destroying every inch of his pathetic land. He killed anything that came near, not even bothering to eat it, just leaving it to rot. It was when he grabbed a running rabbit from its place in the ground and ripped it in two that he finally gained control over the anger that had surfaced with that dreaded question that Grimmjow had asked himself over and over again for the past seventy years was asked. Why couldn't he return to the village? He'd asked the same question time and time again, _trying_ to come up with an answer, but always coming up with one answer that made a plethora of other questions arise, and only succeeded in frustrating him more. He couldn't go back because he'd picked from the garden. Why couldn't he return if he picked that flower? What caused him to have these transformations? What force held him from going back? Why was his life so torturous? Why? What? Why?

_Why?_

He still held the head of the rabbit in his hand and he realized that during his thoughts he had crushed it, disgusting innards splattering over his body to meld with the gore and blood that was already sprayed all over his body. Then he took a deep breath, disregarding the coppery scent of blood that assaulted his nose, and tried to calm his raging temper. He brought his hand to his face, dropping the disgusting and flimsy remains of the rabbit, to look at the brain matter that coated his fingers. He grunted, thoroughly disgusted and shook his hand, trying to dislodge the clinging pink globules.

His mind raced with angry and distorted and choppy thoughts. He couldn't fathom why he would locked out of his previous life, and just as he was accepting his new one, something comes along that reminds him of his previous affliction. Now he was breathing heavily, his body shaking, and his mind racing. He snarled and ripped a small sapling from the ground beside him and threw it to the side. A pain lanced through his chest and he realized that he had thrown the small tree into the garden. He carefully picked up the sapling and threw it in the other direction far from the garden.

He bent down and cradled one of the crushed flowers to his chest. He breathed out on the bruised petals and watched slowly as it straightened and grew firm once again. Roots grew from the bottom of the stem and he placed it back on the ground, watching as the flower planted its roots deeper into the ground until it was standing firmly on the soil. He did this with all the damaged flowers, till the pain in his chest subsided and he could once again breath without pain flowing from his heart. Just as the anger had pierced his mind like a spear, sadness and weariness filled him, quickly extinguishing any anger he'd been feeling before. He barely had a mind to go and wash the filth off of his body in the stream, before going into his little cave and curling up into a ball and falling into a restless sleep.

**o8o**

Ichigo, after Grimmjow had run off into the forest, had slowly gotten to his feet. With the knife in hand he walked back to his hut and plopped down onto his pile of furs where he slept. Thoughts crept into his mind; what had triggered such an angry reaction from Grimmjow? What could possibly have happened that he would get so angry? Why would he push Ichigo the way he did?

This question nearly brought Ichigo to tears. The redhead thought that they were special, that they were friends but somehow more. But friends didn't get angry and push their friends away emotionally, let alone physically. Maybe they weren't anything. Maybe it was just a fleeting companionship, and it had come to an end.

But why would Grimmjow give him something so special? The knife was beautiful, crafted by those dangerous hands. Ichigo thought as he looked at the knife in his hand, that maybe it was all because of him that their relationship had ended so explosively. But Ichigo didn't want their relationship to end. Grimmjow was special, and all he needed was a friend to be with. He seemed so lonely. Ichigo felt it in his touches, in his kisses, Grimmjow needed someone, desperately. No matter how calm and collected Grimmjow may have seemed, Ichigo could see the roiling guilt and confusion in his blue eyes, and it tore Ichigo apart as much as it did Grimmjow.

He looked back at the knife in his hand. No matter how violent and wild Grimmjow may have seemed, Ichigo knew that something wild could not have made something so beautiful, and with so much care. He ran his middle finger over the smooth carved bone and felt that this gift had more meaning to it that any of the other gifts he had received.

He would be the one to seek the other out. Not only because he was the one that had to apologize first, but because Ichigo knew Grimmjow couldn't seek him out. Going to the village was impossible for him. Ichigo fell into sleep that night, one thing on his mind; he would search for Grimmjow in the morning.

Ichigo didn't sleep late into the morning like he usually did. He woke up with a jerk before dawn, sweating and panting and still imagining the ferocious look in Grimmjow's eyes. Blue eyes that held such an inconceivable amount of pain and Ichigo felt hopeless when he thought about what to do. What could he do for someone who'd been living with that kind of pain for seventy years? It was more pain than anyone should feel for one lifetime, and Grimmjow seemed to live forever. If he had not aged in all this time, why would he age in the future? Ichigo had to do something, because if Grimmjow had to live with those feelings for the rest of his time on this earth, then Ichigo could never forgive himself, and unto the day he joined those of the dead, he would never let himself forget it.

With renewed determination, Ichigo grabbed his knife and snuck out of his hut, the morning chill hitting his skin, making him jolt quickly before heading into the forest. He knew that he might be able to find him in that cave, so he would try there first. If he wasn't there Ichigo didn't know what he would do. He did know that he would keep searching for the man until he found him. He would not give up on him.

**o8o**

Grimmjow awoke when he heard a twig snap outside his little burrow. He was instantly alert, and he slowly rose to a crouch, knowing that whatever it was that was outside could not attack directly and they would have to slide in through the small opening, giving Grimmjow enough time to do a great amount of damage.

Then he heard a small 'ouch' and he knew who it was. No one could go through a forest making as much noise as Ichigo did. At least, no one dangerous.

He didn't climb out just yet, instead watching as the boy slowly neared the entrance of the cave. He was unsure if he should go to him.

He'd dreamt of the boy the night before. It wasn't a pleasant dream. It was a horrible twisted dream, one that filled Grimmjow with terror. It started out sensual, he was kissing Ichigo, and every inch of his body was touched by his lips. He'd gripped the boy in his hand, slowly bringing the boy pleasure.

But then the dream changed. His kisses turned to bites and his grip changed, his hands gripping hard enough that his claws drew blood. He whispered mean and crude things into the boy's ear, making him tremble with fear and cry out. He'd killed Ichigo, torn his skin with his claws and rent the skin from the boy's body. He'd crushed the boy's head like he did the rabbit's. He'd killed him. He'd killed him.

Killed. Dead. Torn. Bloody.

Dead.

As he plunged his hand into the boy's heart, he woke up, the echoes of an agonized scream filling his ears, even as the dream ended. The world outside was calm and smooth, nothing like the chaotic turmoil that raged inside Grimmjow's frantic mind. He'd never even think about killing Ichigo. He felt so ashamed that he could push Ichigo away the way he did. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt Ichigo, and he knew he'd live the rest of his life alone and with regret hanging over him. So killing Ichigo was something Grimmjow couldn't even grasp. Even an infinitesimal cut upon the redhead's skin would be unforgivable. Nothing could harm Ichigo. Nothing.

**(Cue: I Giorni – Ludovico Einaudi)**

That included himself. If he could even dream of harming Ichigo, if even his subconscious could fathom hurting him, then he was unworthy of being anything to Ichigo.

He would push Ichigo away, for his own good.

He growled and the feet stopped moving.

"G—Grimmjow?" the voice was timid.

Afraid. Frightened. Fearful.

Scared.

Pain lanced through Grimmjow's chest, a pain that was far more biting than the pain he felt when he tried to leave his flowers. His reaction had Ichigo fearing him. He'd made Ichigo wary of him. That hurt Grimmjow far more than it should have. Not only was Grimmjow a hazardous beast with a fiery temper, but he was also immortal. Growing close to a mortal was not a bright idea. Ichigo would age and die, just like his own family. And Grimmjow would be left to grieve. He would be left to pick up the pieces of his own shattered heart. No.

Grimmjow couldn't do that to himself. He wouldn't let himself go through that kind of pain again. He was already too attached to Ichigo and he didn't need his feelings getting in the way of his self-preservation.

"Leave," he groused, when he heard another nervous call of his name.

The boy jumped, and then he saw the boy fall to his knees. He watched, making sure to keep his face impassive, as the boy crawled into the cave. Ichigo situated himself across from him, sitting cross-legged in front of him. The boy had his head down so Grimmjow couldn't see his face. He looked up. He had tears in his brown eyes.

Tears.

Hurt. Pain. Crying.

He'd hurt Ichigo. The very thing that he was trying to prevent, he had already done. His own face showed his feelings, his eyes widened and his lungs took in a sharp breath as he watched the salty tears pour from Ichigo's doleful brown eyes. He was hurting Ichigo by thinking of himself. He only wanted to keep any relationship he had with Ichigo to a minimum, because if he didn't he would end up alone after the boy grew old and died. But he couldn't, not if it was hurting Ichigo. The boy looked so forlorn, like it was his mother that had left him and not someone that he'd met a couple days ago.

Ichigo was reaching out to him and just like that Grimmjow's resolve broke and he was pulling the boy into his arms and kissing him heatedly. This kiss wasn't like the ones they had shared before, it was desperate and fiery and intense and _oh gods he was so close_. Ichigo was sitting in his lap, his knees on either side of Grimmjow's hips and his feet hooked at the ankles behind the blue haired man's back, pulling him as close as possible, _as if he was afraid I would push him away again_, Grimmjow thought sadly. Their lips moved and they let out their feelings through this single and impassioned kiss, showing the other how much he was missed. Grimmjow felt a small flick of Ichigo's tongue against his lips and he groaned, tightening his hold on Ichigo's lithe frame that was deliciously pressed to him. His own tongue ventured out of his mouth and tangled with the one brushing his lips tentatively. Heat erupted in his chest when their tongues touched, spreading till his entire body was burning like an inferno, and _oh it was so good._

_Ichigo,_ was the thought in Grimmjow's mind as he tasted the boy's mouth. Grimmjow feasted on his lovely mouth, tasting every inch of that wet cavern. He felt a slight tightness in his chest, because he knew he couldn't go any farther with Ichigo. But he would cherish this kiss, because even as he pulled away, Grimmjow could feel his frantic thoughts calming.

He stayed for a moment, just holding Ichigo. Holding his warm body close to his, making sure that he was really there and that the kiss wasn't another warped dream his subconscious had conjured up in his sleep. He rested his chin in Ichigo's hair, breathing deep of his scent. He remembered, when he was a child his mother would crush nirnroot and then rub the nectar into her hair to make it fragrant. He inhaled deeply, thinking that perhaps Ichigo did it too, because the smell of Ichigo's hair wrought a string of nostalgia that coiled into his mind like a vine.

Ichigo wasn't crying anymore, but he was still gripping him tightly, like he was never going to let go, even if Grimmjow tried to push him away; which he wouldn't, because he was too fond of the boy to hurt him anymore.

He kept the boy in his arms, but he slowly leaned back so he was lying on the floor of his cave and Ichigo was lying on top of him. He felt the desperation in the way the boy stiffened when he first tried moving, his grip unconsciously getting tighter, before relaxing as he realized what Grimmjow was doing. When he was on his back, Ichigo nuzzled his cheek, sighing contentedly. Grimmjow listened as Ichigo's breaths became heavier, until finally the boy was asleep atop his chest. Soon after, Grimmjow followed Ichigo to slumber.

**080**

When Ichigo awoke, it was light outside and the birds were chirping pleasantly. He yawned and snuggled closer to the warm body beneath him, remembering the passionate moment they had shared the night before. He was happy that Grimmjow hadn't pushed him away again. All he wanted was to stay with Grimmjow, forever. He never wanted to let Grimmjow go, and he never would. But, the fact that Grimmjow had not aged in seventy years did not pass over Ichigo's mind. He knew that someday, he would die and Grimmjow would be left alone. But he wouldn't think of that, because he didn't want to ruin anything that he had with Grimmjow. Maybe it was selfish, and indeed it was, but humans are selfish creatures, and Ichigo wouldn't let this moment go for anything.

He sighed when he felt an arm wrap around his waist, letting him know that Grimmjow, too, was awake. He didn't say anything, in favor of remaining quiet and letting the moment of comfort last, before Ichigo had to return home and tell his father where he had been.

"You will have to return to your village soon," Grimmjow said, kissing the crown of Ichigo's head. Ichigo lifted his head and kissed Grimmjow's lips, liking that they didn't part their lips this time. That they were back the way they used to be. He smiled gently.

"That is true, but I will return. I'm a man now; I don't have to ask my father to go out into the forest anymore," the redhead spoke softly, as if he were afraid that his voice would break the beautiful spell that was cloaking the two intertwined beings.

Grimmjow chuckled lowly, tipping Ichigo's head and kissing him once again, loving the feel of those soft lips against his. Again the kiss was motionless, without movement. Until Ichigo pressed harder, moving his lips unhurriedly against Grimmjow's, till the man responded in kind. Grimmjow sat up, before gripping slim hips pulling Ichigo as close as he possibly could. He would never let him go, nor would he ever push him away again. That was a mistake. A mistake that Grimmjow regretted down to the marrow of his bones and he would never do it again. Ichigo moved against him, grinding his growing erection against the hard plates of Grimmjow's stomach. Grimmjow realized that Ichigo was seeking his touch once again, so he dipped his hand in the front of the boy's pants and took a hold of the hardening member. Grimmjow felt heat erupt through his body as he watched Ichigo's face. Seeing the cloudy brown eyes and the plump, pink lips parted slightly as he breathed heavily made Grimmjow hot. He knew what it was. It was arousal. But unfortunately, he could do nothing about it. He didn't have the proper parts for sexual intercourse. He didn't need to eat, or drink for that matter, only choosing to do so when he felt the desire arose.

He shook those thoughts from his head, instead choosing to focus on pleasuring Ichigo. He tightened his grip on Ichigo's member before moving his hand. Ichigo cried out every time Grimmjow's fingers rubbed over the head, and he was moaning and writhing and thrusting into Grimmjow's hand. The boy reached his peak quickly, making Grimmjow wonder just what kind of affect he had on the red haired boy. He smiled as he heard Ichigo's panting breaths calm and he kissed the top of his head, burrowing his nose further in the fragrant hair.

"How long have you been gone?" Grimmjow asked, despite not wanting to ruin the moment they were sharing, he needed to know how long ago he'd left his family, lest they begin to worry.

"Sunrise, yesterday," Ichigo said, sheepishly, "I couldn't remember where the cave was, so it took me a while to find it."

Grimmjow chuckled, "A real man would have been able to find it easily," he taunted, laughing harder when the boy gave him a furious glare, before huffing and burying his blushing face into his chest. Grimmjow just hugged him close. For the time being, he could remain with him, but later he would have to return home to check with his family. He didn't need them snooping around, despite the fact that they'd just be looking for their son.

But he would keep Ichigo, and he would treasure the time he had with him. However short it would be, compared to his everlasting life with his flowers.

**Yeah, the rating is going up. That's for sure. The beginning of this chapter has enough gore for that. Poor Grimmjow has the worst case of blue balls ever in the history of ever :/ But don't worry **_**too**_** much about it, his time will come ;) **

**Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, guys, I really appreciate it :)**

**Lots of hugs and kisses from Aku, because she loves you guys! X3 **


	5. If the Moon Fell Down

**Chapter five. Not much of an author's note for now, but there might be some at the end of the chapter. **

_Chapter 5_

_If the Moon Fell Down_

Their relationship was a unique one, one born of the fear of death and an indomitable yearning for another person. Their first meeting had been a prime example of Grimmjow's longing for the touch of another person, and Ichigo's attachment to the person that had saved him from kissing death. Sometimes when Grimmjow thought about what he had gained with Ichigo, he grew giddy with an excitement that seeped from his pores as he met Ichigo every day. They had agreed long before that they would meet after sun high, when it was undisputed that Ichigo should go hunt.

Grimmjow hadn't had another dream like the one he had the night he pushed Ichigo away, so he merely thought of it as a lesson taught to him, so that in the future he would never lose his temper and push Ichigo away. He hadn't done anything of the sort; in fact, he'd told the boy why he couldn't return to the village, despite the boy's silence on the subject.

Ichigo had been just as confused as to why Grimmjow couldn't return to the village as Grimmjow himself was. He knew that there was a larger force at work behind the garden and it was what made Ichigo very wary of the garden. When Ichigo had seen the flower garden for the first time, Grimmjow had warned him never to pick from the flowers, to never harm them and never even go beyond precious admiration of the earth given beauty of the bright flowers. Ichigo had immediately told him that he didn't like the flowers, but at the same time, he loved them.

"They did this to you, they took you from your family and never let you return to your home. Yet they brought us together," he'd said, before kissing him, which was quite out of the norm for them.

The two would meet daily, and months passed and they only grew closer. The winter months came and went, they never grew tired of seeing each other. Their time spent together was time they cherished, because Ichigo would return long before nightfall, and they would both be left with an emptiness in their hearts that was only filled by the other's presence. But with every day that passed they grew closer and closer, the fondness in their hearts growing, burning brighter till it was an undeniable love that raged like a wildfire in their hearts and in their very souls. Their kisses became something they indulged in rarely, only when they met and when they parted. If only because they wanted to keep them as something special, something that, despite the fact that they would each never cease to enjoy their kisses, that they could treasure beyond anything earthly-minded they could ever receive. But when they did kiss, it was an explosion of passion, love and pure, unadulterated emotion.

They never talked about what they felt the day that Grimmjow pushed Ichigo. By harmonized decision did they decide to leave it in the past and never bring it up, because it was done and over with and they need not dispute it or relay the feelings that arose that fateful day. It kept them in the flow that they had created with their odd relationship and they knew it was what kept them together. Their immediate understanding of the other was what bonded them so closely. One merely needed to say few words and the other would not bring up the topic again. They never fought, because in their elevated understanding of themselves and the other, they kept from bringing in disputes and unwarranted heated comments that would otherwise bring them apart.

"I have something for you," Grimmjow said, as they climbed out of their little cave. He'd been planning this for a while now, mostly because he had come to the realization that he really loved Ichigo and it was irrefutable and he couldn't wait to tell the whole world. Of course, Grimmjow's whole world consisted of Ichigo so that was who he could tell.

He led Ichigo by the hand, pulling him gently around the rock formation that he called his home, and then brought him into the garden to stand in front of it. Ichigo looked puzzled, his nose scrunched in confusion and Grimmjow chuckled and kissed the tip of it, making a brilliant blush appear on the redhead's cheeks. Grimmjow enjoyed the blush, before walking over into the garden. He took a few moments to just look at it, like he had done when he first happened upon it.

His power kept the flowers from dying, so nothing had changed, the flowers remained the same and in the same spot they had been seventy years ago. It had been so long since he had looked upon it that he was suddenly ridden with emotion, his eyebrows furrowing, making him think twice about what it was that he was doing. No, Ichigo deserved this. He needed to give him this.

He took a few steps into the garden, looking directly for that large red flower. When he found it he crouched down and moved it to the side. There he saw it. It was back to its former beauty, yet it was still simple; the little blue flower hidden away underneath the extraordinary beauty of the red one. He'd thought that the flower would have died when he picked it, but it would seem that it had a little more tenacity than he would have originally thought. Grimmjow chuckled, before reaching out and carefully picking the flower from its place in the earth, ignoring the twinge of pain in his chest. He held the flower behind his back as he turned toward Ichigo, smiling crookedly.

"This is for you," he said, holding out the flower, "This is the flower that made me what I am today. I'm giving it to you as a sign of gratitude for giving me what you have in here." He placed a gentle hand on Ichigo's chest, and pressed the flower into his palm. He noticed that as soon as the boy took it, the pain in his chest ceased altogether, leading to an euphoric symphony that roared in his heart and made him tremble. Loving Ichigo was so easy, everything about him pleased Grimmjow. He was beautiful to look at, he smelled like nirnroot, which reminded him so much of his mother and the way he spoke and carried himself was pleasing to the point of laughter. The way his nose scrunched up when he was displeased or when he was confused, made Grimmjow never want to let him go and just keep the redhead beside him for the rest of eternity.

Ichigo was looking at the flower in his hand. Grimmjow never talked about what kept him from returning to the village. Ichigo thought that he might never find out, and he was fine with that. So long as he had Grimmjow, he was content. He didn't need to know all about Grimmjow's past, so instead of ruining what they had, he left it alone and didn't ask a thing, because asking would surely lead to another confrontation like the one that they had on the day of Ichigo's ceremony. So when Grimmjow decided to divulge such a personal fact Ichigo was left rather confused as to why. It wasn't as if he and Grimmjow had had some form of moving conversation that had brought upon such a change of heart.

"Why are you giving me this, exactly?" Ichigo asked, looking back up Grimmjow, releasing a sigh of relief when he saw that Grimmjow wasn't angry at his confusion, but instead he was grinning, like he was relaxed.

"Because, I love you."

Ichigo's eyes widened. He'd never heard Grimmjow say those words. A small smile spread Ichigo's lips, and he fingered the flower in his hand, trying his hardest not to wrap his arms around Grimmjow's neck and kiss him. They didn't kiss unless they parted and met, that was what they had agreed on. He was happy, happier than he could ever remember being and he loved it. He wanted to wrap himself in Grimmjow's arms and never leave. Because Grimmjow just said he loved him. Grimmjow just said he _loved him. _Ichigo had never heard those words from anyone aside from his family.

Ichigo looked away, blushing hotly, making Grimmjow chuckle lowly at the cute reaction. He cupped Ichigo's hot face and dipped his head to kiss Ichigo's lips, fulfilling the desire that he knew that they both had, despite how abnormal it was for them to kiss in the middle of the day. He ran his hands through coppery hair and smiled into the kiss when Ichigo shivered. The boy reached up and plunged his own hands into Grimmjow's blue hair, gripping the long strands tightly. Grimmjow knew it was because he finally revealed that he loved him that Ichigo was having such a reaction, and the thought made him laugh. Ichigo huffed before pulling away, a scowl marring his features.

"What's so funny?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nothing, love, you worry about you," Grimmjow said, tapping the tip of his finger on Ichigo's nose. He smiled when Ichigo scoffed and seemed to look equal parts angry and amused. Grimmjow took his love's hand and pulled him closer kissing the boy's cheek, before saying, "It's time you went home."

Ichigo sighed, knowing it was the truth. The sun was setting and he had to return home to his family. They started walking toward the village at an unhurried pace, trying their hardest to lengthen their time together. It was when he and Ichigo reached the outskirts of the village that Ichigo saw something suspicious. Isshin wasn't doing his usual, like trying to prepare dinner or start a fire for that dinner. He was out looking for something, right in front of the opening where Ichigo entered the forest for months on end.

"Ichigo!"

Grimmjow kissed Ichigo once before sinking back into the darkness of the trees, hiding himself from view. He didn't know what had changed, but he knew one thing was for sure, something was wrong. He watched as Ichigo ran to his father, the older man embracing his sin as soon as he reached him. It was then that Grimmjow saw the roiling clouds in the sky above. So it was just a storm he was worried about. Grimmjow sighed in relief, hoping to the gods that that was just it.

Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his chest, and he pitched forward, trying his hardest to let his blackening vision return to normal. It was as if his chest was being split open and his heart was being gripped and squeezed of any life within it. He whirled around, gazing into the forest frantically searching for the garden, even though he knew he couldn't see it from such a distance. He tore through the underbrush, running at top speed toward the garden. The pain in his chest grew, to the point where his lungs burned, his heart burned and his muscles burned. When he reached the garden he searched frantically for something that might have gone amiss, something that would tell him why he was feeling such pain as he'd never felt before, but noticing that there was nothing wrong with it, no flower was hurt, no root was torn. Everything was fine.

But he still felt the pain.

**080**

As soon as Ichigo was in his father's arms, a frigid wind surged through the clearing. He glanced at the forest, briefly wondering if Grimmjow was alright, before heading toward his hut. Ichigo ducked into his hut, noticing that his sisters were in the furs trying to huddle together to ward off the sudden cold that saturated the air. He changed into the clothes that he wore for winter, before he picked up an animal skin from his own bed and sat down next to his sisters, wrapping them all in the skins. He could see his breath in the air which was strange because winter was nowhere near them. He wrapped his sister's in his arms, trying his hardest to stop the shaking and be strong for his sisters.

"Brother, w—why is it so cold?" Yuzu asked, her teeth were chattering and Ichigo was afraid.

"I don't know Yuzu, but for now, all we can do is come together for warmth." Ichigo murmured.

He felt his mother and father join them in the cluster and the cold suddenly got worse. Thunder clapped outside, and the sun must have been blocked by the roiling clouds because it suddenly grew dark. Rain started a pitter patter on the top of the hut, the soft sound having a soothing action on the family inside. But soon the rain started to get heavier, and Ichigo felt Karin's shivering grow worse for a moment as fear overtook her. The air was still seeping in through any holes in the furry defense, but the wind was thankfully stopped by the walls of their home.

Suddenly Ichigo froze, as he heard mad laughter accompanying the roar of thunder. He wrenched himself from the covers as he heard shouting from outside. He grabbed his knife, the one that Grimmjow gave him, and threw aside the furs covering the opening to his hut.

Then he saw it. It was a man. But he was not like any man Ichigo had seen before, but yet he was vaguely familiar. He had long, stringy black hair that hung down his shoulders. His face was consumed by a manic grin that made fear seep into Ichigo's bones and it was worse than the chill that permeated the air. With rising horror Ichigo saw that he had not two but six arms and he had sharp ivory claws at the tips of his fingers. Then Ichigo saw it, what seemed so familiar; the man had the same plates as Grimmjow had covering his body.

Who was this? And why was it that he resembled Grimmjow?

Ichigo watched as he jumped and landed on top of a hut, cackling madly as it collapsed and the people inside screamed in fright. He was lifting the tarp with one hand and reaching inside with the other, his disgusting clawed fingers extending toward the small family that was inside the collapsed tent. He pulled one of the boys, and belatedly Ichigo realized that it was Uryuu, and he watched with grim horror as Ryuuken lurched forward in an attempt to stop the man from hurting the boy but was suddenly stopped by the man's grip around his throat.

Ichigo clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable scream of pain. He couldn't watch, Uryuu was going to have to watch his father die, and damn it all, could Ichigo let that happen? Could he sit there and turn his eyes away from the horror happening before him? No, he couldn't. He had to do something, if only crying out to distract the man, and buy them some time to escape!

"Stop!"

**080**

**OMG, what happens to Ichigo! :OOOOO**

**OH NO. Will he die? There is a possibility! X( Oh nooooooo. Hope you liked, I'm tuckered out after being sick all week, thanks for reading! **

**:D**

**Aku loves reviews!**


	6. Louder Than Thunder

**So, hope you liked the last chapter, this one is full of le action, so enjoy~!**

**X( please excuse the first time hand-to-hand-combat-fighty-scene, I know it sucks. I hate firsties! DX**

* * *

_Chapter 6_

_Louder Than Thunder_

Gods how he hated this garden. For all its beauty and apparent innocence, Grimmjow had never learned to love it, even after long years of being beside it. It had brought him too much pain already for him to come remotely close to liking it. Sometimes he wanted to hurt the flowers himself, watch the petals as they were crushed by his hand. But he knew that that would only bring him more pain, so he refrained from fulfilling that petty desire. It was only fueling the anger that raged inside him, knowing that he was pinned and confined by mere plants of all things. That every small creature that roamed the forest was a predator to his flowers, even the smallest insect was a threat.

So his anger now was growing by the second, because here he was, feeling an aggravating pain in his chest and the garden was perfectly fine. He looked closer, thinking that perhaps the garden was being ravaged by a predator that was not caught by fleeting glances, and perhaps was smaller and more easily hidden. Damn it all, this was probably some parasite that was eating away at the flowers even as he breathed heavily and fumed, trying to find it.

His hands were reaching to grip his hair in exasperation when Grimmjow paused for a second, because even as he was beginning to panic in his state of pain and unease, he knew he needed to find the root of the problem. He took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge of pain in his chest at the action, before taking his time to look at the garden. Nothing was out of place, which again puzzled Grimmjow, so instead he went toward his home, intending to sleep the pain away, close to his garden.

He was climbing inside the cave when he suddenly felt it; a deep sense of foreboding, like something was coming. He looked behind him, searching frantically for the threat, which he couldn't see in the dense forest. A chilling wind bit at his right side, coming from the garden… and the village. Why was it so cold in the middle of the summer? Could something be wrong? He slowly stood onto his feet and took quick steps toward the village. As the sinister feeling in his gut grew stronger, Grimmjow's pace increased, his feet moving faster, till soon he was weaving his way through the greenery, dodging trees and jumping over bushes. When he reached the edge of his land he saw that many of the huts were collapsed and people were screaming. Something _was_ wrong.

He saw a man, one that held a stark resemblance to him and he held a boy in one hand and had another hand wrapped around the throat of a man with white hair. The white haired man was reaching out toward the boy, but as his hand grazed the boy's clothes, the grip around his throat tightened and he cried out.

"_Stop!_"

He heard Ichigo's cry before he actually saw the boy and his eyes widened when he spotted him mere yards from the horrid scene. Grimmjow's eyes widened and he lurched forward as he watched the man loosen his hold on the white haired man's neck and drop the child. But it wasn't relief that he felt, because even as the boy was set free and gathered up by his father, the barmy grin that spread the newcomer's face foretold far worse things happening to Ichigo because he'd had the audacity to interrupt.

The man cackled evilly, before taking slow deliberate steps toward the redhead, seeming to enjoy the trembling that had started to control Ichigo's limbs. Grimmjow watched in horror as one of the hands gripped Ichigo around the neck, the smile spreading to maniacal proportions as the grip got tighter, cutting off Ichigo's air supply.

Grimmjow looked down, unable to watch as the life died from his love's eyes. He could do nothing. Even as he looked he could not make a move to extend any limb forward, toward the village. He would have to live with the fact that he could do nothing for Ichigo. Damn it all, he had Ichigo, and now he was going to lose him.

A cry rang through the clearing and Grimmjow's eyes darted upwards and took in the scene. He saw the ornamental knife protruding from the arm that was connected to the hand around his throat. Ichigo pulled down, and Grimmjow watched with wonder as the blade sliced through the hard plates like it was mere flesh. That couldn't be… the plates that covered the man's body should have been too hard for a knife made from bone. Yet there was the proof, dripping on the dirt in the form of blood.

The arm now useless, the newcomer clenched one of his other six hands and sent it flying toward Ichigo's face. The boy crumpled to the ground, trying his best to appear strong in spite of the fear evident in his eyes. The man wasn't grinning anymore, which led Grimmjow to believe that he didn't find the situation amusing anymore. A clawed hand scraped across Ichigo's cheek and four scarlet lines appeared on the lovely peachy skin.

_No!_

This was just like the dream, Ichigo was being cut, and he was being scratched and scarred. Grimmjow could not let that happen, he couldn't just sit idly by and watch as Ichigo was hurt. He had to _do something!_ He pushed against his invisible barrier, trying with all his might to break whatever it was that was holding him back from saving Ichigo. He couldn't let some measly curse stop him from rescuing his Ichigo, nothing would stop him. He felt as if he had run for miles as he pushed as hard as he could, with much more determination and longing than he'd had seventy years ago. He had something on the line now. Ichigo, his first love, his first friend after being alone and bereft for so long. The clapping thunder mirrored his frustration as he was pushing with every fiber of his being to break the force that held him captive in his meager land. It was as if he was frozen one moment and was thawed in the next, for one moment his limbs wouldn't budge, and the next he was in movement. With one final cry torn from his throat Grimmjow collapsed forward, tumbling for a few moments before tearing his way through the underbrush and into the clearing. He tackled the man from behind just as he was about to plunge his hands through into Ichigo's skin once again.

They landed in a heap of hard limbs, their plate covered bodies coming into contact with loud, ear-grating sounds. Grimmjow wrapped a clawed hand around the slender, unprotected throat, and left his other hand ominously poised to strike.

"Why are you here?" he groused.

The man laughed. "Ah, so the new Guardian appears," he drawled, his smirk back in place.

"What do you mean by 'new?' I've always been the Guardian of the flowers. And who are you?"

At this the man laughed again, "You can call me Nnoitra, I'm the _true_ Guardian of the flowers. I've come to find you, actually."

Grimmjow's eyebrows furrowed the man had come to find him? And what was this nonsense about 'true' guardians?

"Oh, you're confused, I can tell. Let me explain; there are four Guardians of Nature. They each guard one domain of the world and in each one there is a garden. The Guardian is supposed to protect that garden for eternity. Simple really. You see, I used to be the guardian of this domain."

Here the man's face turned angry, his eyebrows pulling tighter on his brow and his mouth forming a heavy scowl, "Until a snotty brat came and picked from my flowers. The brat replaced me the moment the flower's ties with the earth were severed. To answer your first question, I'm here because I want my immortality returned to me. I have aged in the last seventy years, child, and I want it to stop. And the only way I can be immortal again is by killing you."

"Grimmjow! No!" Ichigo cried, surprising Grimmjow, because he hadn't known he was watching, instead assuming he had gone to safety once saved.

"Leave! Get the people to safety!" Grimmjow said, turning slightly to look at the bewildered boy. He hesitated slightly, looking for all the world like a frightened child, then nodded and turned to get the rest of the villagers into the forest and away from the trouble Nnoitra was causing.

A sudden tightness around his throat alerted him that he was being attacked. The arm Grimmjow held poised to attack he plunged downward and cut into the soft skin that was exposed on Nnoitra's abdomen. Claws dug into his sides, the claws scratched along his sides with bloodcurdling noise. Hands gripped him pushing him from on top of Nnoitra, and he rolled to the side, springing to his feet when he realized that Nnoitra was following close behind. He paced his steps and grabbed onto one of Nnoitra's arms, using the man's own momentum and twisting and sending the black haired man flying behind him. Nnoitra stumbled before righting himself and turning swiftly and sending a fist forward. Grimmjow palmed the offending limb aside and thrust his own closed fist forward and made contact with Nnoitra's cheek. The man was losing thoroughly, and Grimmjow didn't know whether to be glad that he was winning or wary that perhaps the man was merely testing the waters.

The man wiped the blood from his split lip. "Ah, it seems you are stronger than me," he said, grinning despite his situation. "Doesn't mean I don't have any tricks up my sleeve…"

Nnoitra ran at Grimmjow, charging something in all of his hands; something that glowed yellow in the waning light. He turned to run, but just as he was to take a step forward, six arms gripped him all at once. At first he just felt warm, like he had been sitting in the sun too long. But then the warmth grew to heat and the heat grew to an excruciating pain. It felt like he was being burned alive, he looked at his hands, saw that they were glowing. That he was changing. The fur was receding from his palms; the white plates were falling from his skin to land on the floor and break like ceramic. For a mere moment he could forget the pain and it was replaced by wonder at his changing body. He was back to normal. He could see his skin. He could see the muscle moving beneath his tan flesh. Gods what a gift! How long had it been since he had seen his body hale and healthy, free of white plates and fur? He lifted his hands and touched his ears, laughing aloud as he felt the rounded edges. He touched the base of his spine, laughing harder as he felt the flat expanse of skin, with no protruding tail. He laughed happily, nearly in tears, but his happy moment was ruined and his laughter was drowned out by an evil cackle.

"Enjoy that form while you can, because soon…" here the man chuckled darkly, "Soon you'll be dead!" Nnoitra just kept laughing, like the entire situation was the funniest joke. In an instant, Grimmjow realized what Nnoitra had done. He'd taken away his defenses, even his power, so it would now be child's play to kill him and take his place as the guardian. He turned as Nnoitra started running towards him and fear filled him for the first time since that fateful day he picked the flower.

He was plowed to the ground by the former Guardian, the hard ground scratching into his now unprotected back. He tried to grip two of the six hands, but he screamed as four sets of claws dug into his skin like a hot knife through butter. The manic grin on Nnoitra's face was of epic proportions. One hand reached back and the other five held him in place. Even as he struggled the claws only dug deeper. Grimmjow closed his eyes, preparing himself for the pain that was about to come, for he knew he was breathing his last breaths. If only he hadn't picked from the flowers, maybe he would have been able to live his life in peace and he would have been able to grow up with his family, and not on his own and alone for nearly a lifetime. He clenched his eyes shut, resigned to his fate.

* * *

Ichigo watched as Grimmjow changed, hidden as he was behind one of the huts left standing. And he watched as Nnoitra laughed evilly. He'd seen to it that the villagers were safe and he'd come back to the deserted village in search of any signs that the fight might be over and if Grimmjow had survived. He'd missed any fighting, and he was glad. He didn't want to see Grimmjow get hurt. He saw how happy Grimmjow was that he had changed, how the man looked his body over, excited that he could see flesh instead of white.

Then he'd seen how Nnoitra pinned Grimmjow to the ground. He'd seen how his claws dug into Grimmjow's delicate looking skin. As he saw the blood pouring from the wounds, Ichigo gasped imperceptibly, trying his hardest to not cry. He gripped the knife that Grimmjow had given him, clutching it to his chest. He stepped from behind the hut and snuck forward, using all the stealth he had to sneak up behind the man pinning Grimmjow to the ground. He didn't dare breathe as he stood behind the man. When he saw the man lift a hand, he gripped the knife and wrapped his hand around the back of the man's neck, the other one winding around and plunging the knife into the man's throat, before wrenching it sideways and slicing it open. Blood splattered onto Grimmjow and Ichigo nearly fainted as he watched the stark colors of blue and red combine to make a repulsive discordance of life and death.

When Nnoitra collapsed on top of Grimmjow, the man pushed the dead weight off of him and quickly hugged Ichigo to him disregarding the blood on the both of them. Ichigo dropped the knife and wrapped his arms around Grimmjow's neck, burying his face into the man's chest. As he hugged Grimmjow, Ichigo was numb. He wasn't even sorry that he'd killed someone, because the man had been about to kill people of his village, Uryuu , even Grimmjow. No, he couldn't find it within himself to regret what he'd done. He liked to think of it as having saved some one, and not killed something. He took a life for the life of another. The man was going to kill both Uryuu and Ryuuken and then he would have killed Grimmjow, and Ichigo wouldn't stand for that. He would make sure that no harm ever came to the people he loved. And he loved Grimmjow.

Grimmjow was still a little frightened, as if he couldn't really believe that the fight was over, he and Ichigo were both alive and well, and the wretched curse had been lifted. He felt like it was all a strange dream, and as soon as he let himself believe that it was true, he would wake up to the cruel and unwanted truth. He looked at his hands over Ichigo's head, rubbing them together, liking the feel of his rough palms coming together, instead of the annoying friction of fur against fur.

"Ichigo!"

The call made Ichigo jump in Grimmjow's hold. He let the boy go and he turned to the girl, who had disobediently gone after her brother, worried, despite his assurances that he would be fine. She looked scared and she was eyeing Grimmjow, like she knew that there was something dangerous about him. He wouldn't be surprised if the ones who had seen him come in as a beast could recognize him despite the changes, for his blue hair was most likely one of a kind and that was still the same.

"Karin, I thought I told you to stay with father!" Ichigo chided, and despite the reproachful words he still hugged her close. The girl buried her face into his chest, tears clinging to her lashes.

"I couldn't leave you on your own, you could have died!"

Ichigo smiled and patted his sister's head, running his fingers through her black hair, "It's alright Karin, Grimmjow saved me," he murmured into her hair.

Karin looked at Grimmjow inquiringly, an eyebrow raised, "Are you Grimmjow?" she asked. The man nodded.

"Thank you for saving my brother," the girl said, making Ichigo smile.

Ichigo smiled, looking up at Grimmjow, and then back at his sister, "Frank as ever, aren't you, Karin," he asked, making the girl blush.

It was then that Ichigo's father ventured out with the white haired man. The moment the black haired father saw his son, he ran toward him, hugging the boy like any scared father would, and gently rebuking him for running off in the face of danger. The man pulled back, looking his son over, when he saw that dead form of Nnoitra on the ground.

"Is he dead?" he asked, "Who killed him?"

"Ichigo did," said Grimmjow, drawing all attention to him. Ichigo's father narrowed his eyes at Grimmjow, looking him over.

"You're the second one, I saw you change into a human," he said, suspicious.

Grimmjow didn't even blink, tipping his head, "Yes, that was me, but I'm not here to harm anyone," he said, looking the suspicious man in the eyes. It could have been hours, or minutes that Grimmjow was subjected to the man's skeptic gaze, but it would seem that the man deemed him worthy for he held out his hand and shook Grimmjow's.

"My name is Isshin, thank you for saving my son. What is your name?"

"It is Grimmjow, and you're welcome."

Ichigo, smiling, turned toward Grimmjow, hugging him close, glad for all the world that they were both alive. Grimmjow pulled him close, loving the feel of Ichigo's bare skin against his. His smile turned feral when he felt his cock brush the hem of Ichigo's pants. It would seem that Ichigo felt it too, because he looking up, smirking but blushing and said:

"Grimmjow, I think we should get you some clothes."

* * *

**I thought that Nnoitra's little "But soon… soon you'll be dead! HAHAHAHA." was pretty fitting. I don't think he's the kind of guy that would really be prone to saying catchy and smart things. He's a simple guy. Well, in my eyes. **

**Well! That's it for this chapter! Hope the action but wasn't **_**too **_**bad…**

**PLEASE READ: Smut is coming in the next chapter so beware! :O it's my favorite part -3-**

**Aku loves you guys. She loves reviews too.**


	7. Our World on Fire

**Well, guys, this is the last chapter of Hymn of the Wild. It's been fun, seriously, because you guys are so responsive and cool and I LOVE YOU GUYS! Thanks to those who have stuck with me since the beginning, and especially to the ones who reviewed, faved and followed. I really appreciate your lovely reviews, they make me so happy. Trust me, when I see that email in my inbox from FF, I get so excited! :D**

**SHOUT OUT:**

**Patd06, thanks so much for your lovely reviews. You always have something intelligent and inspiring to say about my fics. :) Thanks girl!**

_Chapter 7_

_Our World on Fire_

Getting used to the village life again took Grimmjow a few days. Because he had spent so much time in solitude, talking to no one, interacting with none more than the animals, Grimmjow was unaccustomed to the hustle and bustle of the village. The villagers welcomed him warmly, most of them having seen Grimmjow save Ichigo, and fight Nnoitra. He had built his own hut, in which he and Ichigo lived, and he thought he couldn't be happier. The elders would speak to him of his mother and father, for they recognized the blue hair that his mother had. One in particular was exceptionally nice to him, and he liked to spend time with her. Hallibel was younger than the other elders, only seventy-six years old, but she was the fiercest warrior in her day. Or so she said, but the others agreed, so Grimmjow had to believe that it was true. Hallibel said that she remembered him when she was young. The ambitious fifteen-year-old that was so eager to please his parents. Many of the elders asked what happened to him, to make him disappear for so long, but Grimmjow didn't tell. Then Hallibel told him a story that surprised him.

"I was six when you disappeared," Hallibel said, smiling warmly at a startled Grimmjow, who was tending to the fire in front of him. "And I saw you frozen at the edge of the forest." Here Hallibel frowned, "But as I called for you, you did not listen, you merely took steps back, and then ran away," she said, turning her face toward Grimmjow. She spent long minutes just looking at Grimmjow, unblinking. Grimmjow held her gaze.

It took little for him to relent and look away; "I picked from a magical garden, it made me into the monster you saw," he said.

Hallibel wasn't one to ask questions, and Grimmjow knew that, so she left it alone. There was no explanation needed, there were many otherworldly things in the world and Hallibel knew not the question them.

"I'm glad you made it home, Ichigo needed a man like you," she said, placing a slender hand on Grimmjow's broad shoulder.

Grimmjow blushed, and hoped Hallibel mistook it as heat from the fire and not the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Speaking of home, Ichigo should be back any time soon, I should probably go."

Hallibel smiled, "Indeed, he should be home by now, go and meet him," she said.

Grimmjow left Hallibel smiling and made his way toward his own hut. But there were other thoughts on Grimmjow's mind, and they had been on his mind for a great deal of the day. It had gotten so busy with rebuilding the village and meeting new people, that Grimmjow hadn't a chance to even sit down and really talk to Ichigo, most of their interaction involving matters that pertained to other things aside from their relationship. Grimmjow had grown so accustomed to talking nothings with Ichigo that all this lack of free time had gotten to him.

But things were winding down, and it was pretty obvious that he and Ichigo would get a chance to spend real time together soon. Perhaps that very night…

Grimmjow had already started a crackling fire when Ichigo got home, and the redhead was excited as he handed over the two rabbits he had caught.

"Nice catch," Grimmjow said, before starting to skin the rabbits. Ichigo smiled, he was so glad that Grimmjow had finally been freed of the curse. He looked handsome before, but now, without all the plates and with the revealed broad muscles dancing beneath tan skin, he was stunning. Ichigo sat beside Grimmjow watching as he removed the last vestiges of skin from the second rabbit and then skewered it before placing it beside the fire. It was long moments of comfortable silence before they could start eating. When they did, Ichigo and Grimmjow ate with vigor.

Grimmjow turned to Ichigo, who had finished eating and allowed himself to watch him, noticing the light blush on the boy's cheeks. He inwardly smirked, thinking it was about time he got his bit of pleasure from Ichigo's body. He'd spent too long thinking that he would never find release, and now that he had the proper parts, he would damn well use them. But first…

Ichigo jumped half a foot in the air when he felt Grimmjow's face bury itself in his neck, blunt teeth nipping gently at the skin. An arm wound itself around his waist as Grimmjow turned to face him, the other coming to gently cup his face and turn it so that his mouth collided with a warm pair of lips. It had been a long time since Grimmjow had kissed him as hotly and ardently as he was right then. How long ago was it, when they sat together in Grimmjow's little cave and kissed with passion behind their intentions? Months, at the least.

Grimmjow pulled back, liking that the blush had intensified and the boy's breathing had become labored. He stood up slowly and then grasped Ichigo's arm, leading the blushing boy into their tent. He laid the boy down on their bed of furs and climbed atop him, kissing what skin he could reach. He gently took a hold of the hem of Ichigo's pants and pulled them down his slim hips.

Ichigo blushed, red as a ripe strawberry and abashedly covered his privates, because despite the fact that Grimmjow had even touched them, the man had never stared so intently at them and he was finding it hard to be brave under that hard stare. Yet, he put up no resistance as Grimmjow gripped his hands softly and moved them aside.

When Grimmjow finally faced Ichigo the boy was naked and blushing madly. Grimmjow felt a stirring in his groin as he looked at Ichigo's penis, having never looked at it prior to that moment. After he moved Ichigo's hands, he gently touched it, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and thumbing the head softly. Ichigo let out a small moan at the friction and slowly, deliriously lifted his hands and touched Grimmjow's chest, his palms nestling comfortably over firm pectorals.

He touched every inch of smooth tan skin, mapping every dip and crevasse, finding and memorizing the spots that made Grimmjow tense and moan. Grimmjow buried his face into Ichigo's neck, licking and sucking what skin he could, making Ichigo squirm. He kissed down a slim chest and never felt happier that he could feel the touches Ichigo gave him, and that he could feel the pain as Ichigo dug his nails into his skin; he still marveled that he could feel at all. He had skin, not hard nerveless plates that invoked no reaction when touched.

Ichigo ran his hands up Grimmjow's broad shoulders, up his neck before the stopped to cup Grimmjow's face and pull it up so they could kiss. Gods how he loved Grimmjow's mouth. He loved to kiss it, and he loved when those lips kissed him all over. He whimpered lightly when Grimmjow pulled back to remove his clothes, before firmly settling himself over Ichigo. He gripped Ichigo's thighs, gently urging him to spread them wider. The boy blushed but complied, tentatively revealing himself to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow gently prodded Ichigo's lips and pushed his fingers into the warm cavern when the pearly pink lips opened. Once they were wet Grimmjow removed his fingers from Ichigo's mouth and trailed them down Ichigo's stomach, before lifting them and placing them at Ichigo's entrance. He slowly pushed his middle finger in, watching Ichigo's chest shudder and hearing his breath stutter. He wiggled it slowly, trying to spread some of the moisture, before pushing in another. He gently scissored the two fingers carefully watching Ichigo's face for any signs that he was causing him pain. He thrust his fingers in deeper, stretching as much as he could. When he deemed Ichigo prepared, he pulled his fingers out and, spitting on his hand and spreading it over his weeping erection, he aligned himself with Ichigo's stretched opening.

He pushed in slowly, mindful of the look of discomfort on Ichigo's face. Ichigo's eyes were clenched shut and his lips were pulled back in a sharp grimace of pain, because what Grimmjow was doing hurt.

"Shh, it's going to get better, I promise."

Ichigo took those whispered words to heart and gave Grimmjow a strained smile. Grimmjow wiped the sweat from Ichigo's forehead and kissed his lips, before pulling out slowly. Ichigo grit his teeth, determined not to make a sound, but even as he felt the pain of intrusion, the graze of Grimmjow's manhood against his prostate made for a better sensation to focus on.

Grimmjow was going slowly, taking his time to ease himself in and out of Ichigo, and by the gods was it good. The heat surrounding his member was amazing, like nothing he'd ever felt before. Ichigo was beginning to let out small moans, ones that went in time with the slow deliberate thrusts that Grimmjow was putting into glorious practice. With each thrust more precum spurted from Grimmjow, making the passage not only hot and tight, but wet with slippery moisture that made the in and out proceed with more ease and effortlessness. Of course, with each breathy little moan the coil in Grimmjow's groin grew tighter, he sped up, his thrust becoming short and powerful, making Ichigo wrap his arms around Grimmjow's neck for some semblance of security as his body was overloaded with pleasure.

Ichigo had never felt something so amazing, because even as his shaft was untouched, Grimmjow felt so good inside of him, making him writhe and moan

Ichigo's cries grew louder, more passionate, and even Grimmjow himself was having trouble reigning in the deep, guttural groans that were escaping his throat with each push and pull of his hips. He fell down so he was supporting himself with his elbows, face inches from Ichigo's. He leaned forward and joined his lips with Ichigo's in a messy meld, the kiss made sloppy by the movement of Grimmjow's hips. Grimmjow couldn't describe the feelings he was having, the press, the grip, the pull. But not only the physical sensations, but just the mere thought that he was with Ichigo, hale and healthy and very much _alive_ made his head swim with more than just the pleasure he was feeling. It was nearly euphoric.

Grimmjow wrapped his hand around Ichigo's weeping member, stroking it in time with the thrust of his own hips. This made Ichigo cry out, his arms tightening around Grimmjow's neck, his eyes clenching shut as he came violently, clenching uncontrollably around Grimmjow's cock. The clamping of those muscles on his cock made the coil in Grimmjow's gut snap and he saw white as he spilled himself inside Ichigo's depths.

He nearly collapsed on top of Ichigo, but he held himself with trembling arms and he tried to shift so he landed beside the teen but when Ichigo's grip on his neck didn't loosen, he merely eased himself down to rest his head on Ichigo's chest, the rest of his body lying on the bed. He could hear Ichigo's heart slowing down after his orgasm and it was lulling the older man into sleep. He shifted so he could see Ichigo's face, the boy was falling asleep as the moments ticked by, if the tired smile Grimmjow was given was anything to go by. Grimmjow smiled in return. But before he could let sleep take him, before the darkness took him for the night, Grimmjow murmured one thing.

_You are my savior, Ichigo._

**I broke my record for reviews! It was fifty with The Colored Forest, and now with Hymn of the Wild, I have fifty five! :D XD :D Yaaaay! LOVE YOU GUYS. THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE LOOOOVE. **

**Sorry the update took so long, my computer hadn't been working right and I had to let my dad take my baby apart and look at it's guts… T^T**


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